Turmoil
by Lummy1507
Summary: Her face seemed ghostly in the bluish moonlight that filtered through the window. To a passing observer, she would seem serene, at peace, beautiful...but her eyes told the real story." ONE-SHOT, GW-HP.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey everyone! Here's something I came up with out of sheer boredom! Hope you enjoy it! And remember, REVIEW!!!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. I ONLY DREAM AND WISH THAT I DID.**

Her long red hair fluttered around her shoulders as she stood in front of the open window of her small, messy room, shivering slightly in the pale gold dress she wore. Her bare arms were wrapped involuntarily around her midriff, whether in an attempt to stifle the cold or to suppress the sobs deep in her chest, it was difficult to tell.

Her face seemed ghostly in the bluish moonlight that filtered through the window. To a passing observer, she would seem serene, at peace, beautiful; and beautiful, indeed, she was. The healthy dose of freckles which splattered around her cute button nose added a tinge of flavour to her snowy skin. Her hair, with its natural streaks of chestnut indistinguishable in the dimmed light, fell in a silken sheet to the middle of her back.

Yes, she was young, and she was gorgeous, but she was also unhappy. Her full, pink lips, slightly parted over her gleaming teeth, trembled uncontrollably. Her arms seemed to be holding herself up, preventing her from breaking into separate pieces. And her eyes...her eyes told the real story.

The chocolate irises were almost dreamy, unfocused, concentrating on something nobody could see...there was anguish etched all over those irises, an unexpressed, but deep sorrow. A single tear clung to her curved eyelashes, barely hanging on. Suddenly, the pale eyelids closed over the wandering iris and the droplet of water paved its way down her freckled cheek. The wet trail it left behind was soon joined by more droplets, this time of the rain entering through the window, speckling her face. The lace curtains were brushing against her face, wiping them off, but she did not seem to realize...she did not seem to feel it. There were too many potent emotions already raging inside of her.

_He's gone_, she thought. _He's gone, I don't know where, I don't know when he'll come back…he's gone…_ The image of a young man formed in her mind. He could barely be called a man, just a teenager- a child in so many ways, but more mature than adults in others. There was a lazy grin on his face as his hand jumped to his wild hair in a vain attempt to tame it. The corners of her lips lifted up in a small smile at the characteristic gesture; she focused on each of his features, bidding herself to recall them to perfection. The wide, strong jaw line, the smooth plain of his shaven cheeks, the crook of his neck where her head fit in perfectly, his long, straight nose and the glasses perched in front of his eyes…

There were always so many layers in his eyes, once you looked past the lenses… the uppermost coating was the one he used to bluff everyone, posing with the joy and laughter that rarely ever came into his life; there was a glint of the mischief that ran in his very blood that he couldn't repress, no matter how hard he tried, accompanied by his strict defiance of rules, but unwavering morals. Buried below the rest, however, lay a mine of sorrow, of unexpressed anxiety, angst, grief, heartache, loss, the feeling of being misunderstood, of being used, and of unease about the future and what it held for him; most dominant, however, was the abundant flow of pure courage and altruism. The pool of emerald green that were his irises laid his soul bare for anyone who delved deep enough.

And last, but not the least, was the thin, lightning bolt-shaped scar which he had received as a mere baby; he had grown up not knowing its significance, not knowing that he was a special man. But it was not this scar, the one which had marked him as their saviour, that made her love him- she loved him for who he was, as an individual, as Harry Potter, the man; she would have loved him just as much as she did now even if he had not been their "Chosen One" or the "Boy Who Lived". Sometimes she wished he _was_ just a teenage boy, so that he did not have any duties, so that he had not left…

A firm defiance shot up in the midst of the pain. _He left me behind... He thinks I'm too young, I'm too weak! _She thought scathingly._ He thinks I'm a defenceless child! I'm not! But he won't let me prove it to him! He doesn't care about me!_

Another voice in her mind replied; _what are you saying? What do you mean, he doesn't care about you? He loves you!_

_No he doesn't!_ The noncompliant voice shot back, more tears dripping off the end of her closed lashes. _He wouldn't leave me behind if he cared for me… If he cared, wouldn't he worry? Wouldn't that make him take me with him?_

_He hasn't taken you because he wants you to be safe._

_Oh sure, because I'm so safe. I was tortured for information about him today! That's so safe. _Her eyes shot open at the very memory of the Cruciatus Curse the Death Eaters had placed on her after the wedding today to find information on his whereabouts; she shuddered convulsively. She had never experienced physical pain like that before- but now the emotional trauma of his departure seemed a hundred times worse. It tore her down from the inside, hacking at her skin, her bones, her muscles, her very heart. Her heart… it felt like someone had taken an ice-cold knife and carved most of it out of her chest, leaving behind a huge cavity.

There was turmoil all around her- the wizarding world was at war, and they had almost lost; the Death Eaters had taken over, had attacked them at her brother's wedding. It was thanks to Kingsley that innocent lives had been saved. The tension of war should have been enough to cause a sixteen year-old girl to break down, to lose all hope, but she was not like most other girls- Ginny Weasley was strong. With six brothers, crying was not her weakness. But the chaos which had recently taken up residence inside _her_ mind and heart, the tumult of emotions, the havoc these emotions caused in _her _thought process…it was all becoming too much for her.

Soon, the tears had dried out, and her eyes were as dehydrated as her mouth. They were too dry, they stung; her tongue felt rough, uncomfortable against the roof of her mouth. She shut her stinging eyes and swallowed hard; she could feel the inside walls of her throat brush against each other, coarse, spiky, even. But she did not have the energy to look for water. She did not seem to have energy for anything anymore. She knew she had to go on, but for what? What hope did they have? Dumbledore was gone; now the Ministry had fallen- what did they have to look forward to? Would she be able to return to school? What about her family? Would they be left to live? And if they lived, did any of them _want_ to live this oppressed life, under the control of this despotic tyrant, always looking over their shoulders in search of danger?

One of her brothers had left with Harry, along with the one person she considered her sister- would they survive?

_No, no, _she shuddered, _they will survive. They have to survive. Harry will come back to me._

But would they be able to achieve anything? And if they did, would Harry still want _her_, tiny, helpless Ginny Weasley, who had sat at home, waiting for him to come to her, helpless and unhelpful?

Defiance flared up within her once again- she was not helpless! She was powerful, and she would prove it! She would not sit pretty at home while he fought the Death Eaters! She wanted a piece of the real world as well; she yearned for the freedom to prove herself! _No, _she thought. _I'll show him. I'll wait for him- I'll never love someone as I've loved him. I'll give him something to come home to, yes, but something he can come home to and be proud of. I'm going to do this for myself, but I'm going to show him, and the rest of the world, that I am worthy of Harry Potter._

She imagined Harry standing before her again; his image formed in her mind's eye, but she could not muster a smile this time. She did not put any effort into trying, either. Instead, she simply whispered, 'I love you Harry.'

She opened her eyes and gazed out her window once again. Not a sound reached her ears; the deadly silence was almost threatening, but she was not scared. The night had reached its darkest, but Ginny knew- the night was always darkest before the dawn.

**There you go! Now press the button, and REVIEW!!**


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